


The Protectors In the Land of Light

by ldwarken



Series: The Protectors [1]
Category: The Protectors - Fandom
Genre: Books, F/F, Fantasy, Fiction, Science Fiction, chasecutler, murielwiley, theprotectors, theprtectorstrilogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ldwarken/pseuds/ldwarken
Summary: Muriel Wiley lives in a broken world. After World War II,  planet Earth is left destitute of life. Or so she thought. There is something more. Someone more. Muriel has a secret ability that gets triggered by the Benders, people who live on a magical island. Muriel and her friends get taken to Zilliad, a land full of surprises and strange abilities. But the world isn’t as perfect as it seems.Join Muriel as she has adventures in Zilliad, the Land of Light.
Series: The Protectors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762786





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One-Why Are My Fingers Tingling?

“Fight! Fight! Fight!!”  
The words pound into my ears. I duck to dodge a punch, but I have never been good at fighting.  
The punch lands on my jaw and I see stars. The world tips. I rub my jaw, fighting back tears.  
I glance up and find Al, a sneering adolecent boy standing over me.  
“How you feelin, Smell?” Al snickers, and kicks me in the stomach. I land in the dirt, the marketplace tents coming in and out of view.  
“Absolutely brilliant, thanks for asking.” I grit my teeth, tasting blood. What was Rolia going to say when she noticed the brand new bruises that never seemed to go away.  
The group of teenagers that are clumped around call for blood. How did the world become like this?  
“They all want to see you bleed, you disease,” Al whispers in my ear, his breath hot.  
I should run. I’m fast. I could get away.  
If only this place wasn’t so crowded.  
“Then let them,” I say, meeting his cold eyes. He scowls, wishing I would fight more.  
“As you wish,” he says, standing up, readying his fist to draw the blood the jeering crowd wants to see.  
But a voice cuts in, my salvation.  
“Al Buckley, you leave my best friend alone right now!” A petite blonde girl shoves her way through the circle. She places her hands on her slim hips, lips pursed.  
I’ve never been happier to see someone.  
You may be asking why this petite girl has a say? Because a pretty face can sway anyone. At least here, on the dirty streets of Ractia.  
“We were just having some fun, Ri,” Al whines, pouting. Ri scowls.  
“If you don’t leave my best friend alone, I’ll personally pound you.” To Al’s credit, he doesn’t laugh.  
Instead he raises his hands, in surrender. “I still don’t know why someone like you hangs around with her,” he jerks his finger at me. I scowl at his back and stand up, my body aching. If only I could fight, but I just am ground into the dust again and again.  
“Muriel Wiley is one hundred times better then all of you combined, now shove off!” Ri glares at every single one of our peers till they’re gone. Then she rushes over to me, her face in a worried pinch.  
“El, you can’t let them run you over like that,” she says and takes my shoulders in her soft hands. She only comes to my chin though, so her arms are at an angle.  
“I know, but when someone bigger than me starts to beat me up, I have no hope. And Al is way bigger than me.” I hang my head, and she pushes dark strands of hair out of my eyes.  
“Chin up, Muriel Wiley, for goodness sake.” I lift my chin and give her a crooked grin.  
“Thanks, Ri,” I say and shake off her hands.  
“O-”  
“Ri Simons! What have I told you about talking with that street rat?” A piercing voice cuts off whatever Ri is going to say. Ri rolls her large grey eyes and faces her mother, a woman with a dagger-like glare and an even nastier smile. “Get over here, right now.”  
How my amazing, kind friend ended up with that witch, I have no idea.  
Ri sighs loudly, but doesn’t argue. She starts to walk away but whispers over her shoulder, with a small grin, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”  
I nod and watch her retreating form, her black and white clothes much more pristine than the shops and booths around us.  
I glance down at my dark shirt and pants, they’re mostly brown now. I sigh, trying to beat some of the dirt off, but it sticks. Shrugging, I start making my way through the market, grabbing an apple here, a biscuit there.  
I don’t classify myself as a thief, just a lucky passerby that stumbles upon food every so often. And the food here is much better than the rations that me and my robotic mom receive.  
I come to my favorite place in all of Ractia, a small bookstore with a peeling sign. I can just spot the books through the dirtied windows. If I could get my hands on them…. I grin and continue to stand, knowing what is about to come next.  
“Get out of here girl!” A pudgy man emerges, scowling at me.  
“I have every right to stand here and exist, and you know it, Hadley!” I yell right back to the owner of the book store. The round bookstore owner begins throwing books at me, which I find very offensive for two reasons. One, he is throwing books at me and it hurts. And two, he was throwing books.  
I hold up the black backpack I always carry to try and deflect some of the blows. Truthfully, standing here and driving Hadley nuts has been my plan all along, since it’s the way I get my hands on real paper books. When he throws, I gladly receive.  
The barrage subsides and leaves me standing in front of the small shop, surrounded by books. I scoop them up, shoving them into my backpack. I take off down the road, scuttling around grey stands, which hold no promise of escape from this world.  
I scoop up an apple from a vendor, whose shouts of anger fuel my run. The market is easy to get lost in, which is perfect for me. Sprinting behind the vendors, a smile lights up my face. This is the one place where I can get lost in the crowd and be myself, away from hateful looks. This is the one place where I can run and feel free. The books jostle around on my back while I run. The apple clenched between my teeth.  
I jump onto the ladder, who acts as an old friend, that takes me to the top of the grey concrete wall that surrounds our city. Graffiti adorns the walls in colorful patterns.  
I scramble up the rings, my long arms and legs coming in handy as I reach the top. I regain my balance and sprint across the wall, which is barely wider than my shoulders. Shouts echo behind me, but no one pursues me. Street rats running in the streets is normal for Ractia, California.  
I slow to a walk and brush the stray dark brown strands of hair that have escaped my bun, out of my face. Sitting down on the wall, I let my legs dangle. The apple is delicious, the flavors of fresh fruit bursting in my mouth. It must come from a province that rains every so often.  
The land is grey and dead. Effects that came after World War III, which had left the world barren. And now here we are, struggling to regain… well our lives.  
The government doesn’t leave very much room for living though. They tell us what to eat, when to eat, what to wear, where to work. If you were not born into a family that was higher up in the chain of wealth, it was very likely you would be swallowed by the world. My robotic mother and I almost get swallowed every day.  
But it doesn’t matter. I will climb out of all of this some day. Somehow, I will find my freedom.  
I throw my apple core off and it lands thirty feet below me on the grey grass beyond the wall. No one will notice, we already dump all our trash out there anyway. Climbing to my feet, I wave my hands to remain balanced.  
I walk along the wall as I always do, every day, since the day I started school. And now, ten years later I’m still walking the same grey walls.  
The marketplace ends and I spot the bus station. I jump onto a house’s roof then down to the hard concrete. I roll to lessen the pain, which doesn’t even hit me anymore. My legs have gotten used to the shock of landing on something solid from high above.  
Walking down the cracked sidewalk, I pass horrors. People left to starve because they refused to work or go to school. Their rations were neglected. And now they’re paying for it.  
I pass a small child, barely four years old, sitting on the curb. She looks so lonely. Her eyes are filled with a hollow light. Hair a tangled mess.  
I stoop beside her and pull an apple from my pocket. I put on what I hope is a bright smile.  
“Here,” I say, extending it to her. Pudgy, dirty hands reach out. Her wide brown eyes shine. A smile cracks some dirt from her cheeks. I rub a thumb along her face. “I’m sorry.” I stand and walk away. I can’t do anything, I have to tell myself. I wish I could take her into my arms and sweep her away to somewhere green and safe. 

The only ways to get around the city is either walking or riding the public buses.  
Waiting for the bus, I tap my Ear Rings and tell Rolia, my robotic mom, I’m headed home. The silver bus slides into view on its magnetic tracks and I climb aboard, backpack in tow.  
I sit on the bench, leaning my head against the metal back of the bus. It sways gently beneath me. Since it doesn’t have any wheels, the wind always shakes it a little. Magnets keep it hovering midair.  
The bus comes to a halt at my stop. I grab my backpack and get up to stand, but someone sticks their foot out. I tumble to the ground, books spilling everywhere. A couple laughs echo above me.  
Gathering my books, I slip my hands through my backpack straps, slinging it onto my back. My cheeks are burning.  
“See you tomorrow, Smell,” a boy says, laughing. The one who tripped me. I give him a nasty glare, realizing he is a kid from my school. He isn’t worth my time. My real name is Muriel, but El is what I prefer to be called. However, those who don’t like me (everyone) have nicknamed me Smell.  
I hop off the hovering silver autobus and wave to the driver, who waves back. One of the rare people that show me kindness and I have become friends with. Even if teenagers don’t love you, there are other people in the world who will.  
After placing my hand on the lock sensor, I push open the gate that leads to my house and slam through the door. My home is silver, like every other home on the street. The houses are the same color, a dull grey asphalt. The same technology. Our governor won’t have it any other way in 2421.  
“Rolia, I’m home!” I call through the house, storming into the kitchen. I lay out my days' spoils. A couple apples and some oil for Rolia’s squeaky wheels.  
Rolia found me on the street when I was a child. She asked if she could keep me as her own. Surprisingly, the governor said yes. But once I got older, Rolia explained to me that it was purposeful. I was an experiment child: a way to see if abandoned children could be raised by robots. Apparently they can, but that does not mean people won’t hate you for being different.  
But we can’t do anything about it. And I’ve kind of gotten used to it by now, since it has been happening since the seventh grade. Three years of hatred. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I got teased before for my good grades and robot mom, but not like this. This is something… different.  
I go to my room, which is just off the living room and kitchen. Our house only has two rooms. The kitchen and living room are squished together and mine and Rolia’s room is basically a closet.  
Stacks of books line the rooms. A small window lets a dim light filter in. My thin blanket is crooked on my bed. I lay my backpack down, quickly slipping off my shoes, which I place in the drepsler, an auto cleaning machine. I snap off the lights in my room as I traipse back outside to get some fresh air. Even though the air isn’t that fresh.  
My favorite part of the day is right after school, when I swim for hours in our inground swimming pool, which was installed for me when Rolia discovered how much I love swimming.  
There aren’t even swimming suits but my clothes are just fine. It’s not normal for people nowadays to have swimming pools. Especially robot raised children. The amount of water taken up is considered a waste, hence why it is only a ten by ten pool. Rolia could have been taken apart for putting it in for me, but she did it anyway. The strange thing is, Rolia normally never lets me step out of line, in any way. But she agreed and insisted on having it.  
I race back outside and almost fall as I jump off our front porch. Splashing into a cannonball in the deep pool, which has become my sanctuary. Sure, it might not be wide, but Rolia ensured it was deep. A sneaky way of rebellion. I paddle around for a little bit then go to the top, floating on my back and staring at the fog ridden sky of Ractia, California, the capital of the Golden state. The cool water soothes my overheated skin and I feel the day’s frustrations melt away as they always do when I’m swimming.  
Suddenly, my eyes catch on a small silver square hovering above me. I cock my head just as a small needle flies at me. I lunge to the left, trying to dodge the needle but it embeds in my thigh. I wince and let out a tiny scream. A tingling sensation shoots up my legs and through my arms, stalling my heart. My body releases a spasm.  
The world goes silent… but only for a moment.  
Then water shoots up around me. I try to scream but the sound catches in my throat. I swim as fast as I can to try to escape but the minute square chases after me. My fingers tingle and my whole being calls for the water.  
Craves for the water.  
I twist my fingers, trying to make sense of what is happening. Sure, I like water. But the fact that I might be able to feel the water inside me is too terrifying to wrap my head around.  
If I ask the water to go down, would it listen?  
My fingers tingle again and water drops back into the pool.  
My adrenaline rages.  
But the scarier thing is. I knew how to ask it to go down. I knew how to make it obey.  
As if it is in my genes. Like it was bred there. And had just been triggered into action. 

I scurry even further away from the pool, refusing to admit what just happened was indeed happening. I try to wipe the water off of my face but it all comes out of my clothes to form a bubble. Moving my hand to the left, the bubble drops back into the water.  
Something very strange is happening, but there’s a logical explanation. There has to be a logical explanation.  
Wrong. My head can not wrap around anything except the fact that that needle had been seriously rigged with something insanely powerful and dangerous.  
I start to shake, trying to take deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth. This is by far the craziest thing that has ever happened. And the weirdest. I’m controlling water. How is this even going to work at High School?  
Scenes pop up in my head and I see a disaster happening every day. Exploding toilets, chemistry eruptions that I’ll have to blame on some stupid reason as to not reading the instructions. Even though, in reality it’s my malfunctioning genes triggered by a strange needle. High school is going to be even more of a disaster.  
Maybe the water is acting up? The chlorine has come alive in the water? But that doesn’t explain the injection of the needle, which is still embedded in my skin. I wince, my hand shaking as I reach for it. Stinging pains shoot up my leg. I dig it out with my fingernails and throw it away, stomach flipping. I bite my lip willing myself not to throw up at the sight of blood on my hands.  
The place where the needle was begins to bleed. I press my palm to it, attempting to stop the bleeding.  
I need to escape. Get away from the glinting water that seems to want to attack me. So I back away from the pool like it might attack me. And to be honest, I think it might. Water went from being my favorite thing to the most terrifying thing in my life.  
Walking back to my house across our small yard, I am stuck in a daze of trying not to think about what just happened. But of course that’s not possible. It is the only thing I can think about. I should have just stayed inside. The needle could not have gotten me there.  
I twist my hands around and stare at my long fingers, letting out a long sigh. What kind of power do they possess?  
Wiping my clammy hands on my miraculously dry shorts, I slouch onto the front porch, which is just a square of concrete in front of our silver door, and sit down. My wrist watch lights up with the daily broadcast of water supplies, climate change, and more freak explosions.  
The freak explosions have been happening all week, inching closer and closer to Ractia. Why someone would bomb the countryside, inching closer to my city, beats me.  
I’m not nervous at all.  
Sighing, I put my head in my hands, imagining what they are capable of. The fact that I can control something. When life has always been out of my hands.  
The fact that this was happening to me of all people. The brunette that no one paid any attention to. Sure, I’d dreamed of having magical powers like the characters I love to read about. But they never explained how stressful it is. And how impossible and inconceivable. Also terrifying.  
Rolia rolls onto the porch, her eyes narrow at my pale face and bloody palm, but she doesn’t say anything, which is strange. Rolia has it in her programming to not be confused about anything. And so when she doesn’t get what I’m saying, she’ll ask questions until she understands. The fact that she did not say anything scares me more, opposed to if she did.  
What if she knows?  
Then there’s nothing I can do.  
I go into the house and wash my hands of the blood and start chopping potatoes with Rolia. Rolia drones on and on about the freak explosion, she never actually does any work. She is honestly a terrible house droid. But a wonderful mother. She somehow is nurturing with her metal pronged hands. But that means I normally get stuck with all the work.  
Rolia came from a factory where they manufactured robots that served all kinds of purposes. She had been one of the best. But a deadly gas leaked when they were building one day and ruined her programming to manufacture anything ever again. At least robots. She was turned away, along with thousands of other house robots, to the streets. That’s when she found me, and took me in, after she gained permission. And now I am hers.  
The knife hacks along in a melodrome way. As it always does, every night when I prepare dinner. Potatoes and dried strips of meat are the steady meal rations. And it is as boring as it sounds. My eyes suddenly catch on something black. I turn my wrist so that my palm is facing up and almost drop my knife on my toes. Rolia goes silent. There’s a tattoo on the underside of my right wrist.  
Could this day get any worse?  
“What is that, El?” Rolia asks, her silver body scooching closer to me.  
“Nothing, Rolia.” I pause, turning my wrist away. And say, just to make sure, “And don’t tell anyone about this.”  
“Yes, El.” The weird thing about having a robot for a mom is that I can give her orders. It has definitely made me follow my own honor code. I turn away from her and cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from screaming or gasping or wretching. Or all of the above, in that order.  
So instead I study the markings. A black circle with a hand calling a blue tidal wave toward it inside the circle. I cover it with my hand, glancing around. Rebellion is not allowed. And neither is color. I could be put in the stocks if someone found this. The stocks are in the town square. I cannot risk drawing more attention to myself, especially with this newfound thing that is happening to me. Besides, I have a mystery to solve.  
Rolia follows me into my room, chattering about some stupid celebrity that I would care about if I was a normal teen girl, which I’m not. She was originally programmed as a young girl, so she sometimes still acts like it, when she isn’t following the Mom Routine.  
I pull out my Flip, which is a small tablet type device. It is made from glass but has sensors inside it that enables you to do almost anything on it inside the technology world. I pull it from underneath my bed and finish some homework on World War III. I try to keep the images out of my mind of the twisted bodies of people who had been gassed by NTO3, a deadly gas.  
Instead I focus on getting prepared for school tomorrow. I pick out my outfit, choosing a long sleeve sweatshirt to cover the tattoo.  
We are ordered in our community to wear the colors white and black only. A part of keeping our society clean and uniformed, fitting their needs. Having no color also helps conserve resources, which is the only thing the government seems to want to do. The government turns a blind eye to the people who are on the streets starving. Or the heaping mountains of waste that are continuously piling higher outside our city walls.  
“Are you alright Muriel? My sensors are picking up on fluctuating blood pressure,” Rolia says, rolling towards me on her white tracks, her oval eyes narrowing.  
“I’m fine, Rolia,” I lie, and fiddle with the edge of my blanket. Rolia is someone who has always cared about me, and lying to her doesn’t make me happy. But this is not something I can share. I try to put thoughts of what has just happened away. But it is pretty much impossible. The fact that water just shot up and I controlled it, echoes around my head. Rolia is no doubt picking up my wacky nerves.  
The chime of the dinner bells, which are set up throughout the city, echo through my room. Everything is scheduled and controlled. Hasn’t the government heard that rules without respect cause rebellion? 

The bland potatoes stick to my tongue. And the strips of meat barely make it down my throat. It is hard to eat when everything tastes the same. The questions bouncing around my head and the fear squeezing my stomach make it even harder to swallow.  
“What story would you like to hear tonight?” Rolia asks, scooching back and forth on her tracks in anticipation. This is a routine we follow, and I always ask for the same one. Mainly because it’s Rolia’s favorite.  
“Can you tell the story of how you found me?” I ask, setting down my spoon. She won’t take anything but my complete attention.  
“You know it,” she says with a wink of her round eyes. Sometimes I think she’s really malfunctioning because she’ll do human actions. But I’ll never know. I place my head in my hands as she begins, reciting from the script she’s written in her head.  
“It was a dark and cold night. Thunder clapped and rain slashed. I rolled through the streets, looking for stray bits of oil that I could take for myself. I was almost out, the factory had abandoned me a month before. Things were looking desperate.” I nod vigorously, like I have no idea what’s coming next. “Suddenly a small cry reaches my sensors. And heat waves come off from a side street.” I drop my jaw to add effect. “I roll forward, unsure of what I am to find. A small basket containing a golden blanket and…” She somehow makes her face into a visage of excitement.  
“What is it, what?” I ask, scooching forward in my seat.  
“A small baby, wide green eyes full of tears, pretty little lips trembling. Her face pale and soft around her freckles. Dark hair soaking wet.”  
“How flattering,” I deadpan. Rolia ignores me.  
“I gather the small child into my arms and take her to the government building two blocks away. Begging to be able to take care of the child in my arms. Doubting that they would say yes. But they did, they gave you to me along with a house and small funds before I could get back on ‘my tracks.’” She laughs, her robotic voice toning down the tinkle. “And then I fell in love with that baby and raised her. And now she sits before me today, beautiful and kind.” I blush and shove the last potato into my mouth. I go to the sink and wash my plate, stacking it neatly next to my cup and spoon, our only utensils in the house..  
“That’s a great story, Rolia,” I drawl as I leave the kitchen.  
Rolia follows me around as I go through my nightly routine, then pad into my room, the cold metal floor stinging my feet. Rolia follows me into my room, ready for our nightly routine of drinking tea and talking about books. It is one thing that keeps me sane.  
“How are you feeling, El?” she asks as I slump onto my bed, grabbing my Flip.  
“Good as always.” Grinning at her, I pull the pillows closer to me.  
Waiting for Rolia to turn around, I examine my tattoo again. Bubbles of hope rising in my chest. It makes me feel like there is something more. Which there obviously is. I mean, the proof is on my wrist. There's something out there besides Ractia, California, dirty streets, clogged market places, and black and white clothes.  
I fall back on my pillows and sigh, tracing my tattoo. It’s a sign that there could be an escape. But I don’t know how to find it yet. Or how drastically everything could change if I did escape.  
“El? You are doing that thing when you stare into space.” Rolia rolls forward and pokes my shoulder with a pronged hand. I jump and blink.  
“Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s just been a long day.”  
“Is there any way I can assist you?” I shake my head and take my cup of tea off the platter she’s holding.  
“We are on page 545, El,” Rolia says, and the book we’re reading; Future’s Time, pops up on my Flip. Since Rolia controls all the technology in the house, it doesn’t surprise me. It also appears in the middle of her upside-down egg shaped body.  
We read for at least an hour, not speaking about anything besides the book. Rolia doesn’t really read, she just sits there and I narrate what’s happening for her. It’s our deal since Rolia serves people around the neighborhood to buy the food on my plate and the clothes on my back. It’s a small contribution for everything she does for me.  
The curfew chimes ring through the room, signaling we have to turn out the lights.  
Just as I’m about to switch off my lights Rolia says from the doorway, “Whatever happens, El, you just have to trust.” And with that, I flick off the lights.


	2. My Sulking Gets Disturbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muriel tries to hide her secret, but her secret only draws attention.

Rolia comes to wake me up at the crack of dawn. I climb out of bed slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I check my wrist, not sure if the day before was not just a crazy dream that my imagination ran away with. Sure enough, the tattoo is still there, a reminder that life has been turned upside down. I should probably just run away before anything bad happens.  
I smile at the thought of taking off and finding my own adventure, but push that feeling down when I realize the reality of trying to escape. I’d be hunted down, then thrown into jail for the rest of my life.  
I stumble over to my dresser and pull on the long white sleeved hoodie, black shorts, and white sneakers I had set out the day before. I put my hair into a messy bun, grab my backpack and zip into the bathroom, cursing my boring clothes. Wearing the same colors over and over becomes very aggravating.  
When I brush my teeth I can’t get the brush under the water because every time I go to wet the brush, the water moves away from my hand. Eventually I just brush my teeth without the water and then I can’t rinse my mouth. What is drinking from water fountains going to look like? The feeling from yesterday crawls under my skin. A sense of dread.  
Life is going to be a nightmare from here on out. If I bend my hand the wrong way my water is going to do something weird in lunch. Then I’ll really be hated. I’ll be known as the Freak.  
Heading into the kitchen I grab some breakfast. I order orange juice and waffles from the breakfast dispenser. Part of going to school is that the Government gives you breakfast and lunch so your family only has to take care of dinner, one more way we are forced to depend on the government.  
I lean against the counter and sip my OJ, waiting for the waffles to pop out onto my plate. My mind settles slightly as I relive what I always do in the morning, preparing my mind for the day ahead. Eating breakfast, because food is always a major highlight for me.  
My waffles pop out, hot and dripping in butter and syrup. My mouth waters. This is how the Government officials eat everyday, fully taken care of, fat and satisfied, while the rest of us are left with their scraps. At least I can eat like them while I am in school. Two more years after this I will have to fend for myself. The coming responsibility is daunting.  
I eat my breakfast alone as Rolia busies herself with who knows what around the house. I don’t have much time to eat, since school starts at 8:00.  
Rolia comes into the kitchen and begins to count the thirty seconds till the bus arrives. I shovel down the rest of my breakfast and sling on my backpack. I manage a weak wave at Rolia as I’m shoved out the door by her pronged hands. Breakfast is always this way. Rolia is very timely, so I’m never late.  
I punch in the code to the gate that is in the front yard then race down to the bus that is waiting at the small silver station. Garbage lies in the streets, sending a fetid stench into the air. The cracked asphalt crumbles beneath my feet as I race toward the floating silver bus. People from the surrounding neighborhoods climb on, their black and white clothes dull against the brown grass behind them. I hop in line behind people heading for work and school. The autobus takes anyone anywhere. Mainly it runs for kids going to school.  
I stand in the crowd of people, they range in heights and sizes. Most of them have their Flips out. The screens reflect on their faces and they all appear to be a world away.  
Everybody from my school is throwing nervous glances at me like they always do. Ever since the one day I screamed at our principal after he’d ‘accidentally’ tripped my best friend, Ri. No one had expected it from me, the quiet girl, who never stands up for herself when she gets told off. Or bullied. So now, everyone stares, trying to be subtle, waiting for me to lose it again.  
Ri told me I looked terrifying, like my hair started floating and I grew a foot. I had protested that maybe that’s just because I was yelling so I seemed bigger. I must have been intimidating or else I wouldn't have left such a large impression. So now, I just stare at my hands, mostly used to the looks I am receiving.  
I rub my wrist where the tattoo is. I have a secret. And a big one. One that is life changing.  
World changing.  
So why was this given to me?  
I reach the front of the line and climb the silver extended steps. The bus just lets out a tiny hum to let me know that it is operating.  
I breathe a sigh of relief as I climb onto the bus, glad to be away from the looks and glances for the fifteen-minute bus ride to my school. I shove down the aisle in the hovering silver bus and keep my eyes glued to the ground, hands on my backpack straps. I have to elbow my way to my usual seat past people going to work, school, or the market. Public transportation is always crowded.  
I press back to my usual spot and plop down, not noticing that there is someone next to me till he clears his throat. I jump and whip my head around to find a blonde boy, lounging in his seat, his arm draped over the chair behind him. I skootch away and glare, raising one eyebrow, instantly suspicious.  
“Hey,” he says, and I almost jump. No one talks here. Ever. He tugs at the sleeves of his black and white hoodie, which somehow manages to look cool with an aztechy pattern. I don’t respond.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb your sulking,” he says with a hint of a grin on his face. There is a touch of a southern accent in his voice, which is also strange. People rarely move anymore, since we’re assigned houses and jobs. Only if you own a business, or you get offered a job by the Government somewhere else, are you allowed to move.  
I raise both of my eyebrows. I’m intrigued by this boy who wants to talk. “I’m not sulking. I am just in very deep thought.”  
He chuckles lightly. “Sorry, again, ma’am.”  
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug.  
He smiles, the corners of his sea blue eyes crinkling. His whole complexion is shining, like he got dipped in sunlight. No one is this happy around here. We all look like we got dipped in a puddle of sludge.  
“Alright, Ms. Moody Pants, I’m Chase.” He holds out his hand and I shake it stiffly, once. Not giving too much emotion. I don’t trust anyone. Especially not people who smile.  
“Muriel. But please call me El.” I suddenly feel the urge to continue a conversation. It’s intriguing finding someone who wants to talk instead of finding a way to pick on me. I wrack my brain for a question that won’t sound trite. But that’s pretty hard, since I only talk to a robot most of the time. “Are you going to school?”  
“Yeah, Senior school, in Midtown.” I shift back into my seat fully, placing my black backpack on the floor of the grimy bus carefully.  
“Have you always gone and I have not noticed you?” I ask but instantly regret it when a devilish grin lights up his face.  
“How could you not notice me?” he asks and I feel a blush rising in my cheeks. He was pretty noticeable.  
“Um…” I say, unsure of what to do next. He just smirks, his ocean blue eyes shining, like he knew that he got to me.  
“We just moved from Florida.” He sighs, glancing away and runs his hand through his wavy blonde hair. Obviously he was unhappy about this move.  
My brow knots with sympathy.  
Chase shrugs, crinkling his freckled nose. “But it’s okay. My dad thought Cali would be just the perfect place for his business. And what dad says, goes.” A shadow passes over his eyes. So that’s what it is. His dad owns a business.  
“I-I’m sorry,” I murmur, twisting my fingers, not knowing what else to say. I glance out the window past him. The suburbs of Ractia flash by.  
“What year are you in?” he asks, disregarding my statement with a smile.  
“Tenth.” I continue twisting my fingers, putting all of my stress about meeting a new person into them.  
“Me too.” He grins. “Maybe we’ll get classes together.”  
“Oh, maybe.” I shift away from him ever so slightly, his kindness making me nervous. His grin falls a little.  
“Come on El, I can’t be that bad.” He bumps my arm playfully.  
“No. You aren’t.” I turn away, regrouping my emotions before turning back to him. “It’s just, once you get to know me, you might not like me as much. I’m not popular, I'm a nerd.” And now a freak, my mind adds. He laughs kindly.  
“Oh, El.” I raise my eyebrow, his tone is humorous. Like what I said was crazy. “One day you will realize that none of those things are true.” I scowl. No one from here is this kind. They would probably agree with me and grab their Flip, ignoring my existence. Who wouldn’t ignore a girl who only likes books and lives with a robot for a mom?  
“But I’m weird,” I protest.  
“You’re weird?” he asks, like he wants to hear more, but he brushes it off. “Weird is the best way to be. It means you’re interesting. I mean, I’m weird.” He shifts in his seat and meets my eyes. “Plus I’m the kid who never takes his earbuds out and would rather play the piano than go surfing with my friends. Though I would go occasionally…” I just then notice the headphone sticking out of his right ear. I hadn’t noticed it because it had been facing the window. He twists the cord around his finger.  
It’s kind of strange seeing headphones with a string. No one uses that type anymore. There are little headphones that you can wear as earrings, or just set on your ear anywhere and it would stay. Although you can only really listen to the news or Government officiated stuff, which I normally steer clear from. Honestly, wearing headphones with strings is an act of rebellion. Listening to music is another way to show defiance.  
“You could get into trouble for those,” I say and point to his headphones. He shrugs, brushing off the danger.  
“Paper books are an act of rebellion too,” he points out and I begin to nod in agreement.  
It takes me a minute to run over his words and realize something is off. I never said anything about books. I narrow my eyes at him. And he pales. Noticeably. The pieces fall into place. He couldn’t have just noticed it? Did I have a bookish air? Yet, I decide to go with the impossible. The last twenty-four hours proved that anything can happen.  
“Chase, how did you know I read books?”  
“I… made a random guess?” He glances down at his hands, which are shaking.  
“Don’t lie to me,” I growl. “What really just happened?”  
“Muriel… I can’t just tell you.” I grab the front of his shirt. For the first time, I’m the one calling the shots.  
“Oh. I think you can.” I tighten my hold, I can feel his heart beat thundering in his neck. His shoulders are rigid. His eyes wild. Then he releases a breath and the tension that was holding him captive.  
“I-I found it in your head.” I release his shirt as quickly as I had grabbed it.  
Shock comes over me. “You what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH I WORKED ON THIS CHAPTER FOR SO LONG. Let's hear your thoughts


	3. We're Not Heroes, We're Just Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase and Muriel try to find out what's happening to them.

“Oh. You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumble, slinking low into my seat. The world spins. Who else was this happening to? Should I tell him? Or leave the bus and never look back?   
But he trusted you, a tiny obnoxious voice tells me. No way around it, I care about people even though I’ve been hurt.   
“I can’t believe my luck,” I grumble as I pull back the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The tattoo stares back at me.   
Chase looks between the tattoo and me, then back to the tattoo. “Wait.” He pulls back his sweatshirt and holds his wrist next to mine. It has the same circle, but inside of his, there’s a brain.   
“Woah,” he says, glancing at me. Our eyes meet and we must be having the same thought. We both have this strange thing happening to us.   
Dropping our wrists back into our laps, we sit in shocked silence for a moment.   
“When… how did you get this?” My words spill out, awkward and scattered. Putting my fingers to my head, I try to fight back the oncoming headache.   
“Ye-yesterday afternoon. This needle thing attacked me while I was getting boxes from my yard. Then suddenly a killer headache. It gets worse when I touch people though. I can’t stop the thoughts from coming.” I glance at him. That’s why he flinched at me when I touched him. I wonder if some of his pain transferred to me. If what I’m feeling is an ounce of what he’s feeling. I can’t imagine his pain.   
He blurts out, like he has to get it off his chest, “I’m a telepath.”   
“Obviously,” I snap, a little too loudly. A couple eyes turn our way. I duck. “So it happened to both of us. Around the same time… and there could be more of us.” I glance around at the other people on the transport. It could have happened to any of them.   
“This is so strange,” he whispers, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “We’re just normal people. I have only seen movies about this kind of thing.”   
“We’re not heroes, we’re just kids,” I whisper then add, “Why would this happen to us?”  
“Who knows, we’re totally normal,” he whispers again and crinkles his brow, like he is thinking very hard about something. “What if my dad getting a job here was supposed to happen? What if I was mind controlled to sit here, so that we’d meet.” I twist my fingers, trying to make sense of all of this.   
“No one could do that,” I say, trying to convince myself as well as him. “It’s not possible.” He nods reluctantly, like he doesn’t believe me. I glance at the tattoo that was changing my life in drastic ways. It shouldn’t be possible. I have the urge to scratch at the skin till this mark rubs away. Yet that would probably only draw attention to it. And scratching away a tattoo would hurt terribly.   
“What can you do?” he pushes, obviously trying to put the fact that he might have been mind controlled behind him. Except, I understand his curiosity. I have the same problem. Still there is a lump in my throat that makes me not want to speak to Chase ever again. About any of this creepy, freak thing that is happening.   
“Manipulate water,” I mumble and glance around making sure no one is listening on the smooth floating transport bus.   
“That is super cool,” he says. I glare at him, wanting to point out that a telepath is practically useless unless you want to be someone who gossips all the time. “How could you tell the needle affected you?”  
“I was swimming, and I noticed the water . . . calling me, I guess.” I shudder. Saying it outloud was strange. “And then it rose above me in this . . . wall thing and then I told it to go down and it . . . obeyed.” My voice is barely audible by the end of my rushed explanation. His eyebrows raise so high I think they might topple off his forehead.   
I notice we have stopped at the school (thankfully) so I grab my backpack and get up, wanting to end this conversation. To get away from this person who knows. I start down the aisle, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back down onto the seat. He releases my hand quickly, though his eyes remain pleading.   
“Okay, El, I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but please, please can we still be friends after all of this? I know I kinda blew the fact that you could ever trust me with the whole ‘reading your thoughts’ thing.”   
“You’re right about that.” He shakes his head and laughs.   
“I’m really sorry again, but maybe give me a second chance. Ma’am?” He adds the last part in a teasing voice, like calling me ‘ma’am’ is a joke, which it kind of is. I contemplate ignoring him, but his tattoo makes me wonder if there is more happening than I can understand.   
“Sure. Fine. Okay,” I grumble and look away. I don't really want to listen, or give him a second chance. Although something is keeping me from running into the school and getting lost in the crowd of high schoolers.   
“I really appreciate it.” Relief is plain on his face. There’s also fear radiating off of him, like he’s afraid to be alone. To be left in this new world with an unusual problem.  
“I am kinda mad at you for reading my thoughts, though,” I add and glare at him. The fact that he had heard everything I was thinking makes me shiver. How could he still want to talk to me after he had seen inside my mind? Yet he’s so different from the other people I’ve met it doesn’t shock me.   
And maybe it would be nice to have another ally.   
He shakes his head and laughs, making me crinkle my nose in confusion.   
“I only opened my mind to yours for a moment,” he says and laughs again. “Your mind is warm but sharp, calculating. It was so weird.” I punch his arm. And he rubs the spot where I hit him.   
“I would prefer not to hear how my mind feels, thanks,” I reply sarcastically. I stomp off the bus, not glancing back to see if he’s following me and march into Ractia North High School.   
It’s tall black brick walls reach about two stories and buildings are spread across the campus for other sessions. No trees or plants line the concrete sidewalks that weave through the dreary campus. The bright California sun beats on the solar paneled windows creating a glare. We all meet in the main building in the morning to get stuff from our lockers.  
I only glance back for a second and keep my eyes down. Spotting Chase’s black shoes right behind my white sneakers, I quickly avert my eyes back to my own feet. Yes, he read my mind, but there’s a small part of me that wants to help him get through this. And to have someone on my team.   
And maybe someday, he could be a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH I love Chase


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Kepler is a jerk.

We head to the principal's office. Some kid bumps into my side and almost knocks me over. I stumble to catch up with my feet.   
“Hey, Be careful of her,” Chase snaps, stepping in front of me, a cold protectiveness to his voice. The student frowns at him then shuffles away. Chase glances back at me and raises an eyebrow.   
“What was that about?” he asks, his voice surprisingly serious. I shake my head.   
“I can deal with them,” I say.   
“Yeah, you handled that perfectly.” He winks back at me. “No one should treat anyone that way.” I wish that was reality. I’m used to it. I sigh and continue on, Chase at my side, now glaring at anyone who gets too close.   
My school will forever smell like B.O. and boys’ lockers to me. Along with other disgusting smells you don’t want to know. Our mascot, a black tiger, doesn’t really match the dull halls of our school. This school’s mascot should be a grey sloth.   
I knock on the door of the principal's office, which is a square room with pictures of our principal at award ceremonies all along the wall. Along with trophies of his accomplishments. Mr. Kepler motions for us to enter and I focus my eyes somewhere above his head. I still feel his cold eyes on me. His bald head is as polished as ever. We’ve never had a favorable history.   
“Take a seat, Miss Wiley.”  
My principal, Mr. Kepler, is a middle aged man with a stern face. His cold grey eyes permanently piercing. I always have to fight back a giggle whenever he’s around. His bald head is way too shiny to be natural. You could use it for a mirror.  
I slouch down across from him in one of the plush armchairs and continue staring at his shiny head, not letting myself meet his eyes.   
He is one person I am not afraid of. Even though I should be. Chase sits down too, though he doesn’t slouch as much and he tries to put on a bright smile. Mr. Kepler disregards him. Chase turns to me and raises his eyebrows in an obvious question. What’s with the death looks?   
Mr. Kepler turns slightly fidgety under my relentless gaze. I think I terrify him. Another time we fought, besides when he tripped Ri, was when he caught me in the library when I was supposed to be in class. He told me to focus and get to work but I didn’t hear him because I was so enthralled in the story of a different world than the one I live in. When I finally noticed him, I snapped back with a snide remark. Everyone laughed. Ri told me that my eyes had glowed again.   
And now here we sit in a room thick with tension.   
“Who is this?” Mr. Kepler sneers in his oily voice, with a cold smile. “A boyfriend perhaps?” I turn beat red and turn away, pretending to cough so they will not see my flushed face.   
Once I recover enough to say something, I respond stiffly, “No, he’s just a friend that I met today. He’s a new student here and I wanted to help him around. Is that okay?” Making myself meet his beady grey eyes, I intensify my stare. His bald head glistens under the fluorescent light. His temples begin to bead with sweat, reptilian visage pinched with anger.   
“Why should I help him?” he scoffs. Chase turns fidgety. I don’t blame him.   
“Because he’s your student, Mr. Kelpler.” Mr. Kepler told us in the orientation tour before the new school year started, that he does not care about his students and that he would only expect the best behavior from us and that we should not bother him. I wonder why he even works here.   
“Do you really think that you, Miss Wiley, are the best person to assist this young man?” he snides, his beady eyes squinting.   
“Yes, I think I am the right person for this job.”   
“Me too,” Chase jumps in.   
“So be it,” he sighs, rather reluctantly. He turns to Chase and grumbles, “What is your name, young man?” He pulls out a registration form.   
“Chase is fine, sir,” Chase tells him, appearing embarrassed.  
“At this prodigious institution we use formal names.” He arches his eyebrows importantly. “So, your last name.”  
“Yes, sir. It’s Cutler,” Chase mumbles. He clearly is not proud of his last name. I wonder what secrets he is hiding up his sleeve. Maybe being a telepath wouldn’t be a lame ability.   
“Alright, Mr. Cutler, you will join Miss Wiley in all her classes and your locker will be right next to hers,” he instructs and shows us out, the back of his shirt has a sweat mark the shape of Florida. Now that he has dismissed us he turns his head away, ready to be done with this conversation and us.   
“Great, thanks, Mr. Kepler.” I say drily, and turn to leave. Chase smiles and shakes his hand, trying to be polite. I begin to walk out of the office, slinging my backpack over one shoulder.   
Just before Chase leaves the room he calls, “Thank you, sir for giving me the opportunity to check my teeth before meeting new people!” I choke on a laugh. Did he just call out Mr. Kepler on his bald head? My respect for him just bounced back a little bit. Chase somehow successfully closes the door before laughing.   
“He’s going to hate you forever,” I say and hold my stomach through the giggles.  
“Eh, it was super worth it,” he says between laughs. “I’ve never seen anything that shiny in my life. That man is creepy.”   
We head towards where I know our lockers will be, keeping my eyes glued to the floor, holding back a grin.  
“Nice school,” Chase remarks, his eyes trailing the white lockers and banners promoting government issued programs. Senior schoolers shuffle past, eyes on their Flips. No one is different, or better. Just stuck in a world of rules and monotony.  
When we get to the lockers we find Ri, leaning against her locker, arms crossed. Her fingers are tracing the white flowers that are embroidered on her black bell sleeved shirt that is belted over her immaculate white pants. I always look like I’m the trash collector when I compare my clothes to hers.   
“Hey,” she says, smiling stiffly. Her light grey eyes shine out of her heart shaped face, curious and untrusting. She purses her glossy mouth. She looks tired. I’m worried for her.   
“Hi,” I respond giving her a big hug. Ri only comes to about my shoulder so it’s always like I have to bend in half to give her a hug.   
“Who’s that?” she asks, regarding Chase with an arched eyebrow.   
Uh oh.   
Ri and I had made a pact a couple of years ago that there would be no guys till we both graduated. We had decided it was better to be focused on our school and friendship.   
It had always been hard for Ri, but never for me. And now I brought a dude.   
“He’s a friend,” I say hurriedly, taking a few steps back. This was the second time in fifteen minutes that I had to deflect that Chase wasn’t my boyfriend.   
“An extremely good looking one,” Chase says, winking. “I’m Chase.”   
They shake hands. “Ri.” Ri eyes him, chewing her lip. Then she turns to me.   
“I need to talk to you about something. Privately.”   
“Uhh… alright.” I glance at Chase and he shrugs at me as Ri grabs my hand and drags me to a corner.   
“El, something happened yesterday that shouldn’t be real.” I pale. It couldn’t be. What was my luck? “It shouldn’t have been possible, but it happened somehow. An-and I couldn’t call because I was afraid someone would hear it.” She chews her lip.   
“Spit it out,” I urge, taking her hand to support her. She’s swaying, like she’s about to faint.   
“There was a needle….”   
“I knew it,” I say, not letting her finish. “When you started talking. Ri. It happened to me too.” I pull back my sleeve and show her the tattoo. Ri lets loose a little sob, pulling back her sleeve.


	5. Why: My New Favorite Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos rises.

“This is not good,” I say, slipping Ri’s sleeve over her tattoo, a circle with a snowflake inside it. She’s shaking now.   
“They could kill us for this,” she whispers, her voice cracking. Why Ri of all people?   
I know that I have to protect her at all costs. She’s been there for me, and now I need to be here for her.   
“Hey, calm down. It’s going to be okay.” I put a firmness into my voice, trying to put on an air of confidence that I don’t really feel. I squeeze her shoulders, attempting to give her some comfort. Ri nods, sucking in deep breaths.   
“No one’s going to kill us, because no one is going to find out.” I smile at her. Ri nods again, with tears glistening in her wide grey eyes. “We are going to keep this a secret and if need be, we will leave.” Ri hiccups. Students walk past us, eyeing us.  
“Y-you mean le-leaving our families?” I nod, slowly.   
“If it comes to that,” I say hesitantly. “Stop crying, I’m going to take care of you, okay?”  
“I know that,” Ri says, her breath catching as she attempts to take deep breaths.   
“Now, what I’m going to tell you is very secret.” I turn to look at Chase, who grins awkwardly. Ri frowns at the blonde boy, shuffling his feet.   
“Okay,” she says. “I trust you.”  
“Alright, see that boy over there?” I jerk my head towards Chase, who is trying to look at us without being obvious.   
“Yes,” she says, eyeing Chase nervously.  
“Well, he had the same thing happen to him. And we’re a team now, you, him, and I.” Ri nods. I keep the firmness in my voice. “Anyone else could have had it happen to them so we have to keep our heads down. It’s just going to be us three in this together.”  
“But how do we know we can trust him?” Ri asks, eyeing Chase.   
“You trust me right?”  
“Yes, I do,” she says, smiling.   
“And I trust him. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I reassure her again.   
Ri nods. “Okay, El.”   
She glances at the other high schoolers walking up and down the hall. She and I were probably thinking the same thing.   
No one could be trusted.   
“Let’s go talk to Chase.” I drag Ri back over to Chase. He raises an eyebrow at Ri’s puffy red eyes.   
“What’d you do to hurt Blondie’s feelings?” he asks, patting Ri’s back.   
“It’s not what you think, but we need to focus.” I glance at Ri and she nods, giving me permission to tell him. “Ri got the needle yesterday too, which probably means other kids in the school got it as well.” For once Chase is at a loss for words. He glances at me, to Ri, then around him.   
“I take it you don’t want to befriend any of them?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.   
“No, I definitely do not. We have to keep it secret and only trust each other.” I look directly at each of them, giving them my brightest smile.   
Ri nods. Chase says, “Got it.”   
“I’m going to get us through this,” I say confidently.   
“You’ve always had it in you,” Ri says. Chase gives two thumbs up. I don’t know what to say to this so I stare at my feet, uncertain of the next step.   
Silence stretches between us.   
“I know this sounds mental, but I kind of want to try it out,” Chase says.  
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I say. “Why not? We might as well do something with what we have.” I glance at them. “We’ll just have to be careful.”  
“Well, duh, it wouldn’t be very smart to yell ‘Hey look over here while I blast this thing apart with a tidal wave that I just summoned!’” Chase whisper yells. I put my head in my hands, shaking my head.   
“Yes, that’s true.” Chase and I both look at Ri, who is as pale as the white walls around her. Ri is still in a state of shock.   
“Let’s do it,” she says hesitantly. “But I’m just wondering why this is happening. And to us of all people?”   
Chase makes an offended noise. “You don’t think I’m special?” he asks, with a wink. Ri shakes her head.   
“Maybe it is a disease?” I suggest. They raise suspicious eyebrows at me, like the implication was crazy. “Nevermind….”   
“Beats me,” Chase replies with a lift of his shoulder. Ri glances between us, then shakes her head. We are getting nowhere.   
The first warning bell rumbles through the hall. Five minutes till class starts. And we’ve discovered nothing.   
“When should we try… whatever we are going to call this?” Ri asks, grabbing her books from her locker.   
“I really don’t know.”   
“I’m new here, so I shouldn’t be calling any shots,” Chase says with a smile.   
“After school? Or whenever we can find time that will not be obvious,” Ri suggests. Chase and I glance at each other before nodding. We can not go off disappearing during classes. That would draw attention that we don’t need.   
“Well then, we could use one of the labs. They’re always vacant after school, and I could freeze the door shut once we got in,” Ri offers.   
“That sounds good to me,” I say, smiling at her.   
“Oooh, you have ice powers?” Chase says. I totally forgot to ask what Ri could do. Ri nods, trying not to laugh at Chase’s enthusiasm.   
“What about you two?” she asks, leaning in an excited smile on her face.   
“I have telepathy, but I’m learning to control it.” Ri scrunches her nose.   
“I’m sorry, that must be loud,” she says and Chase nods. I smile at them, glad that they are coming to terms with their new reality.   
“I can manipulate water,” I say. “And we should go, class is starting soon.” I grab my backpack, which is full of books and swing it over my shoulder.   
Ri gives me a quick hug and says, “See you at lunch. I’m glad I’m not alone in this.” I nod at her and she joins the stream of kids. Chase and I step into the throng of students as we head to our first class.   
“This is all so weird,” Chase whispers to me as we walk quickly through the halls. Talk about an understatement. I just nod, and keep walking. But I totally agree with him. Someone out there is controlling us. Moving us around like chess pieces. Not caring if we get hurt.   
Right before we enter class Chase stops me. “You okay?”   
“No, I’m not. None of this makes sense.” I twist my fingers. I feel tears rising in my eyes. I know that nothing is going to be okay till we understand what is happening. “How are you feeling?”  
“I feel like it’s going to be alright.” He smiles reassuringly. “And no matter what happens, I sense something in you that screams ‘heroine’ so you’re going to be alright. Me on the other hand.” He makes an explosion bomb noise with his mouth. I laugh and shake my head.   
“You’ll be fine as well, Chase.” I bump his shoulder playfully. He laughs. I step into the classroom and say over my shoulder, “Let’s hope nothing happens that I have to put that ‘heroine’ thing to work.”

Our morning classes are as boring as usual. And all I can think of is the power hidden inside me, the tattoo on my wrist, and the blonde boy behind me who shares the same worries and questions.   
I also make a point to avoid the bathrooms and water fountains.   
Lunch is the usual. Mediocre food, which lies grey and untouched on my plate. The noise of the cafeteria clatters in my ears.   
“We should do it now, y’all,” Chase leans in and whispers. Ri nods, twisting her long blonde hair.   
“Fine, we have to leave one at a time, to not bring attention to ourselves.” I glance at some teachers lining the walls. “I’ll go first.”   
“Wait,” Chase catches my wrist and pulls me back down. “I can monitor the teacher’s thoughts to make sure no one is suspicious.”   
“Won’t that give you a killer headache?” Ri asks and I nod along with her.   
“I’ll be fine,” he says, smiling reassuringly. Chase closes his eyes. A moment passes then his brow furrows and his hands clench.   
“Go. Now,” he grits out. I give him a nervous look, squeeze Ri’s shoulder then stand up, walking briskly away. I check around, making sure no one is watching, before flashing my I.D. card to exit. As soon as I am out of eyesight I take off into a sprint.   
I try to shut down the elated feeling of doing something fun and important as I screech around the white halls.  
Finally, I arrive at the door that leads to the chemistry lab, sliding my I.D. across the lock. The black door slides open silently.   
Sitting down on a stool, I twist my fingers, rubbing away some of the stress. This is all too crazy. Were we really about to do this? Experiment on what we could do with this strange new thing that is happening to us. What if I hurt someone? I couldn’t live with myself knowing that this had been partly my idea. I stand up and pace as I wait, questions circling my head. What if the others didn’t make it? And they were already found out.   
I slide my fingers along the vials of green steaming liquids. The contents move away from my fingers.   
Suddenly the door slides open, the noise making me jump. Ri and Chase enter, Ri clinging to Chase’s arm.   
“Were you followed?” I ask and hurry over to them.   
“I don’t think so,” Chase says and peeks through the window in the door. He looks a little pale. Probably from listening to other peoples’ thoughts.   
“Ri, do you mind sealing the door shut?” Ri nods and begins running her hand along the seam of the door. Ice creeps out of her fingers, crawling along the metal. Her fingers shake and the ice comes unsteadily.   
“How’re we going to do this?” she asks, her voice quiet.   
“That’s what I’m wondering,” Chase says with a sigh. “I mean, who wants to volunteer to let me read their mind?” Ri keeps her hands lowered and mouth shut.   
“I’ll do it, I guess,” I mutter. It would not be fair to leave him out of all of this. Chase gives a grateful smile. “Let’s move to different corners of the room to practice. Wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.” Chase and I stay where we are, watching Ri move away. Chase steps up to me and smiles apologetically.   
“Sorry about this, I promise you can spray me in the face or something.”  
“It’s okay, I mean, you have to try it eventually” I sit down again on the stool and grab the side of the desk, my knuckles turning white. “Just get it over with,” I whisper and Chase laughs.   
“Jeez, El, it’s not like I’m performing heart surgery.”   
“That’s true, please hurry though.”   
“Okay, okay, bossy pants.” He does not say anymore as he steps forward and places his fingers on my temples. I raise an eyebrow at him. “What? It’s what they do in the movies.”   
He shuts his eyes and the room goes silent, other than the small sounds of shattering ice coming from the corner where Ri is practicing.   
Chase begins to shake and quickly takes his fingers away. “Whoa, your mind is intense.” He shakes his head, like he is trying to clear a fog.   
“Uh, thanks, how kind of y-.” My retort is lost as the room begins to shake violently. Vials rattle on their shelves, some of them dropping to the concrete ground and shattering. There is another noise, like metal snapping and twigs cracking. My head whips up to find a dark haired boy standing in the doorway, roots surrounding him. The door broken off its hinges. His bright blue eyes go wide as they meet mine.   
A crack begins to run along the floor, Chase and I jump back. He grabs for my hand but misses as I tip backwards. The windows shatter. The glass crashes to the floor. Glass scrapes along the metal, screeching.   
I spot Ri under the shattered windows, her hands over her head. Her mouth is open in a silent scream.   
“Ri!” I yell. Ri cries for me but her shriek is cut short. She’s gone. Literally. She’s disappeared.   
I turn back to blast the boy with a geyser but he’s gone too. The only trace that he was ever there are the roots and the broken door.   
“Chase, what’s happening?” I run to him but slip on the chemicals that have spilled all over the floor and fall. The green chemicals burn my fingers.   
I reach for Chase, trying to find something to steady me. He tries to grab my hand, terror written all over his face, but something whips him away.   
I’m left alone in the chaos. What is happening? Where did they all go?   
I lie in a pool of green chemicals, bracing for whatever is going to happen. Glass shatters, I feel shards prick my hands as I shield my face. Shelves fall, the ground rumbles more violently. I close my eyes, gritting my teeth. And then everything disappears in a flash of light.


	6. Bubbles Aren't the best Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muriel battles something that is far beyond her imagination.

The light flashes through my body, my veins. It takes me under, asks me to join it in a warm place full of light. I feel detached from my own body, as if the light has separated me from my very being. It has a cold edge that scares me. Struggling to get free, I find no way out. No way to escape this prison of light.   
It’s over, and I am sprawled on the cold dark floor of some cave. A cold lonely cave. A cave full of dripping stallagtites. A cave where my worst nightmares could happen.  
Light filters through a draft in the ceiling, letting in just enough light to see. The air bites at my skin. I hug myself, wondering why I did not wear a coat. Probably because I didn’t think I was going to come to this Cave of Doom. My hoodie barely keeps out the stinging air.   
Managing to push myself up to my feet, I find that I am alone. In this cavern of shifting lights. With no idea how I got here. Or where I am. Or what to do.   
My teeth chatter and I stuff my hands into my hood pocket.   
I come to reality, I am hopelessly lost.   
So I go with the most obvious thing I can think of, “Help!” I pause and cup my hands to my mouth, angling towards the hole in the ceiling.   
“I’m stuck down here! Please, help me!”   
Nothing, no one. Then suddenly a shift of breath from behind me. A rustle of movement, echoing off the walls. I shift on my heel, and find myself staring into two giant green eyes. And when I say giant, I mean giant. Bulbous and unblinking. Pupils, dark narrow slits.   
I put my hand to my mouth to silence a scream as two curls of steam curl up and around the green-eyed thing’s nose. Shiny white teeth glint in the dim light. Yellow saliva drips from its dagger-like fangs. A low growl echoes through it’s stomach.   
A scream claws its way out of my throat and echoes through the cavern, mixing with the growls from the beast. Screaming probably wasn’t a brilliant idea, but too late now.   
The beast lets out a roar, huge, ominous, and breathtaking. But not the good kind.   
So I do the most logical thing I can think of, again. I turn around and run, not glancing back but know I am being pursued by the beast behind me. Its claws scrape the floor, dangerously close to where my sneakers are hitting the rough stone floor.  
A blast of water from behind me sends me ricocheting into the air and hitting the ceiling that is far above. Pain splinters through my back and head as I collide with the stone. Stars dance before my eyes. I force away the blackness that is creeping into my vision.   
Time seems to stop before gravity takes a hold of me. I fall back down towards the ground, which must be at least fifty feet below. I scream and flail for a moment when I see the beast, which I now notice is a dragon, who can shoot water, and is right below me. His jaws open to swallow me whole. And I have no doubt it could, being the size of a semi truck. Apparently this day could get a thousand times worse.   
I mean dragons don’t even exist. My mind tells me. Obviously they do, because this one is about to eat you.   
I close my eyes, sending a plea into the universe before shooting my hands out and harnessing the tingling that is deep in my skin.   
Water bursts from my fingers in a geyser, which blasts off the dragon and hovers me in the air inches from where the dragon's mouth had been. My arms begin to shake from the strain of keeping the geysers streaming out of my hands, which I don’t even know how I am managing to do. My arms give out and I fall towards the ground. Managing to fall into a roll, my legs scream in protest as they hit the hard ground. Needles shoot up my legs and pain explodes in my back.   
I manage to jump to my feet, thanking the adrenaline coursing through my veins, just as the dragon takes a swipe at my head. My legs threaten to collapse as I dive out of the way, and throw a bubble at it’s open mouth. It is the only thing I can manage to pull out of the water hovering in the air. Apparently, bubbles don’t make the best weapons.   
The dragon looks insulted.   
Opening it’s large blue mouth, which is scaled I notice, water bursts from it in a giant geyser, that rivals mine 100 to 1. Somehow I manage to roll out of the way of the geyser and begin sprinting down the corridor that will hopefully lead out of this cavern.   
And when you get there? My mind asks.   
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” I answer out loud and somehow manage to amp up my speed as the dragon races behind me. It doesn’t seem too fast. You couldn’t be, being that large with wings at your side. I glance behind me for a moment and find it is inches from my feet. Apparently, it’s fast enough.   
It could lunge and, yet again, swallow me whole. When I turn back around to face where I am running, my eyes catch on something glinting silver and gold in the distance.   
A heaping amount of it. I sprint to reach it, pouring all of my energy into my run. The cavern opens up into a giant room made of stone. Columns made of silver line the gigantic room.   
Yet I don’t have time to take in the magnificence because a roar that shakes the columns echoes behind me. I lunge at a black sword hilt that is sticking out of a mound of gold and silver objects, praying it has a blade at the end of it, trying to not think of the wealth at the end of my fingertips as the dragon snaps its teeth together behind me, knowing its prey is cornered.   
Pulling out the sword, I find it does have a blade, and just in time. I spin around and brandish it, just as the dragon reaches me. I stick the sword out and close my eyes, locking my elbows and my knees, which is honestly a terrible idea but I have never done this before. A shock ricochets through me as a sickening crunch resounds throughout the stone cavern, then silence.   
I peel my eyes open one at a time and find the dragon lying before me, the sword sticking out of its mouth. Blue blood soaks my white sneakers and legs, as well as the floor. The sword is buried up to its hilt. Don’t keep looking, my brain advises.   
I fall to my knees and take deep breaths, trying to stop the bile from coming out of my mouth.   
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the blue and green dragon, as I lay a hand on its scaly head. “I just didn’t want to be your lunch.” And with that I grab the sword hilt, and pull it out of its mouth.


	7. Muriel Wiley, This is Your Destiny

I stumble down the dimly lit passageway, pretty sure I am going crazy. The fact that all of this just happened is...well...not possible. Sure, I know it just happened because of the blue blood on the sword I am gripping in my hand, and the scrapes and bruises all over my body are real. And the shivers of panic hitting me, definitely aren’t an illusion. But, it just was not right. Dragons do not exist. And they certainly do not have water powers. They are supposed to breathe fire, not water. Of course it is not real.   
But that does not mean that it did not happen. Just because I’ve never seen all of this before, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.   
I do not want this to be real. I don’t want to come to terms with the fact that I am alone in a cave with no way to get out. Also, there could possibly be more dragons.   
I shove away my common sense. I am pretty sure that I am just trying to convince myself that it is all fake. My brain is too muddled to try and figure out everything that has happened in the last fifteen minutes. And if I did try to figure all of this out, I think it would short-circuit and I would die here like the dragon. Lying on the stone, my bones white and abandoned.  
And what about my friends? Did they have to do the same thing? Or were they dead? I can not think of that.   
I should have been there to protect her. I am her best friend. Someone she should be able to rely on. Not someone who would be stuck in a dark cave alone, with a sword.   
Sighing, I pick up my pace. This is all just a crazy dream, that feels like it is real life. It will go away.   
I should probably stop lying to myself. The impossible is possible.   
Stumbling, I finally spot light filtering across the floor, playing with the shadows. My heart leaps, I am almost out of here.   
I run out into the light and feel the warmth of the sun hit my face. I am in the middle of a green forest, no paths of direction to lead me. But it does not matter. I left the dark behind me. I begin to walk away but a whispery voice stops me in my tracks, “Congratulations, Muriel Wiley, you have completed your test.”   
Almost jumping out of my shorts, I spin on my heel so quickly I almost fall over. Finding my balance, I aim my sword at a lady, who is dressed in a black gown, swirls of silver play across the surface. Her pale skin glimmers in the dark forest.   
“Who are you? What’s going on here?” I ask, leveling the sword at her. I hate threatening her, it feels cold and harsh. But now isn’t the time for kindness.  
“You were put to a test to see if you were right for a Protector. Your friends were faced with a trial as well.” She tucks her arms into her wide sleeves. “As for where we are, you are soon to find out. We shall go now. The Leader is waiting.” I pick out two words that are completely foreign to me, Protector and Leader. She said them with importance, like they are a name of something great.   
“Whoa, lady, do you really expect me to just leave with you?” I laugh. “Like that’s going to happen.” My nerves tangle around in my stomach. Running into the woods is sounding more and more inviting.   
“If you do not come with me, Muriel Wiley, I will make you.” She raises a delicate eyebrow threateningly. Her dark hair sways in the wind.   
“I just took down a dragon, I’m sure I can take you.” As soon as I am done talking, winds bind my hands behind my back and I float in the air, not able to move or speak. My eyes even seem to be glued in the same position, staring into the grey sky.   
“By force then. We must go see the Leader, Muriel Wiley, this is your destiny.”


End file.
